The Mallorn Cage
by Santiel
Summary: Santiel, desperate for adventure and to escape the forest she has spent her whole life in. Leofred, the warrior with a thirst for knowledge - anxious to protect his friend, less anxious to encounter too many Elves. Both destined for the great Council. Where will their journey take them? ***reviews feed my soul, please limit your hate, it's been a long time since I sat and wrote***
1. 1

She couldn't tell you when it began, not exactly. It started as a flicker. A tiny ember of excitement; first whispering in her heart and then growing until it engulfed her. What was the feeling? Until recently she hadn't been sure. She hadn't been sure right up until the meeting.

Then she knew.

She had been indulging in her favourite past time, finding a clearing, dappled by morning sunlight - and lying in it. Contemplating the skies through the tops of the trees and dreaming of what lay beyond this forest. Soft Autumn winds were nudging her long dark hair, spread in a tangle on the grass about her. She was thinking many thoughts, skipping like a stone on a lake from one to the next. Suddenly a change in the stillness interrupted her reverie, her ears twitched to the sides, instantly alert -she had melted into the shadows before the rider entered the clearing. She heard a sigh of frustration.

"Santiel, please I do not have the time to play this game with you, not today. We must make haste. Your parents were expecting you several hours ago and of course, I am at fault in your absence" the male voice was a combination of frustration and pleading.  
Hearing the latter in his voice, Santiel stepped out from behind the tree, deciding today was not the day to test the patience of her betrothed.

"Hush Beri, you pay too much heed to the demands of my parents" she chided gently.

"Must I continue to insist that you use my proper name when we are not alone? And must I also remind you that your parents are not just ordinary parents?" His impatience was increasing.

"My apologies _Beriadan_ , I did not realise the trees were in the habit of reporting idle gossip" she cast her eyes up to the tree tops in her sarcasm "and no, please refrain from continuing to remind me of my parentage, but as it agitates you so, I will come" she swayed away, her long legged, swinging gait irritating him even further as he realised that yet again she had disregarded the dress he had the maids lay out for her this morning and had instead donned her usual riding clothes, making her look from a distance like any other male Elf in hunting garb, and not the Lady of the forest that she truly was.

Torn between his affection for her stubbornness and frustration at her lack of care, he leaped back on his horse and rode after her, his blonde hair streaming behind him as he reached down and pulled her up without breaking his speed.

Resignedly she sat astride, allowing him to keep her steady as she closed her eyes, ready for the dull day ahead of her.


	2. 2

Yearning. A lusty restlessness that hadcaptured her soul and would not let go.

That was the feeling.

She had been stood in this assembly for hours. Ever since she had strode in behind Beriadan, keeping her gaze fixed ahead and away from the disappointed stares of the two golden haired Elves sitting in the centre of the room. The lilting bubble of voices cascaded over her and she toyed idly with the empty scabbard on her waist as she considered the possibility of escape. She let her gaze wander over the gathering of Elves, eventually falling on Beriadan. My Elf, she thought, casting her eyes over his slender frame, long fingers clasped firmly in his lap, his usual serious look on his face. His kind blue eyes raised then to meet hers and she smiled at him, wide and inviting. He blushed. She watched the way the colour played over his cheeks as he looked away and she wondered at his quick ability to be so irate with her in one moment and so fragile the next.

Suddenly a voice, louder than the others, interrupted her thoughts.

"It is not a question of IF but WHEN" Aradan, leader of the infantry who patrolled the Lothlorien borders had jumped to his feet, green eyes blazing.

"Every day my patrols come back having encountered more and more Orc battalions. Our forest is under threat. Our LIVES are at risk. A message comes from Rivendell telling of a council to discuss the fate of the world and still we stand here and debate whether to send an emissary? The question is not if we should but WHEN we should. We must act now, we do not have the luxury of time nor of unlimited forces." He turned then to the fair haired figure sitting enthroned to Santiel's right "My Lady, we must send someone. I beg of you" he then sat down, amidst nods of agreement from the other leaders seated near him. The room got louder as dissenting voices chimed in and heated debates started in all corners.

"Quiet!" The guard to Santiel's left ordered, as the couple rose from their thrones.

"We will consider all that has been spoken of here today. Your concerns and your fears do not go unnoticed. We have much to discuss and will come to you with a decision before sundown" spoke the calm and authoritive voice of their leader. Celeborn then took Galadriel by the arm and led her away to their private quarters.

Realising then that she had missed a slightly more important assembly than she had realised, Santiel sought out Aradan to provide the answers to her questions.

"But Aradan, how can there be a council of wise leaders if no one from Lothlorien attends?" Santiel shook her head and frowned in the direction of the Great Tree.

"Galadriel and Celeborn are reluctant to leave the forest at such a time of need, without them they know we are less strong, M'lady. And who else would they send to speak of our troubles? Our leaders are needed here, to keep the enemy at bay" Aradan trailed  
off and looked at the mossy floor. Unsure of what he was suggesting.

Santiel stared at the Great Tree, watching the way its silver bark shone in the afternoon glow of the sun. Remembering its warmth when she would clamber over it as a child. Realisation hit her full force. _I must go. I am the emissary. This is my time. Now I can see beyond the forest_.

Turning from Aradan, she ran. Ran to the GreatTree, nimble and quick she ascended the steps to the flet above and arrived in front of her mother. It dawned on her that she didn't know how to say what she wanted to say.

"Santiel? My child. You appear to have a great deal to tell me" the calm, soothing voice of her mother put her instantly at ease.

Raising her hand to her breast in traditional salute, Santiel allowed the words to flow freely.

"For many years now I have hungered to know what lies beyond the borders of our lands. Although I have travelled some distances, never have I been permitted to truly embrace who I am. I wish to be useful, I wish to feel the wind in my hair and a charge in my soul. To hear the trees speak their different languages to me in other forests and to hear the birds tell me of morning in other lands. But more than that, I desire freedom. The chance to feel the cold air of the north and the dust of the south. Send me to Rivendell, I will deliver our messages. No one better than I knows the perils faced by our patrols. For although you dislike it, you know I patrol with them. I know also the reach of the enemy and the new threat from Isengard. Send me. Please." Breathless and flushed, Santiel closed her hazel eyes briefly in thanks, and awaited her mothers response.


	3. 3

The city of Gondor.

The setting sun glinted over the white walls of the city, almost blinding to the eye. Above the bustle and noise of the city and away from prying eyes, a solitary figure sat high on the ramparts. He knew he was being looked for, but for now he was relishing  
his own company. He stared out over the vast land ahead of him, over the fields of Pelennor, towards the East. To the shadow. How badly he wished to lay waste to that whole land. To banish the evil that was taking the lives of Gondor men almost daily.

Sighing, he watched distractedly as a muscled war horse picked it's way over the cobbled streets, gracefully carrying it's master up through the winding city towards him.

Unfurling himself from his quiet spot among the stones and the trees, he stretched up to sky and shook out his limbs. Tall and broad, he stood half a head higher than most men. Taller even than the Captain of the White Tower who had dismounted and was now walking swiftly towards him.

"Leof, for hours I have searched for you!" His brother in arms, oldest friend and childhood companion, ran over to him and embraced him heartily.

"This city is too noisy for me, I find it oppressive Boromir. Too used am I to the fields and lakes of my travels. Too much time here takes it toll on me. This city is so beautiful and yet so desolate. Even the ale holds little appeal to me now. Would  
that I could see the White City restored to her former beauty" Leof looked out once more over the city wall towards the black smoke hanging over the once beautiful lands to the east.

"Then my interruption is well timed!" Boromir laughed happily at his friend "for I have been requested to travel again, north I must go to deliver a message and request aid. It is a long road and I am come to ask your companionship" he looked expectantly  
at his friend.

"That could be precisely what I need my old friend. Where are we delivering this message?"

"Rivendell, we are to see the Lord Elrond and meet with the other leaders of the free people"

Leof wrinkled his nose. Elves, he thought, know it alls with strange manners and no humour.

"Come now Leof, the journey will be worth the destination" Boromir looked at him eagerly with his hands spread wide, imploring.

"Boromir, I am the last man you should take on this journey. The very notion of spending time with Elves makes me quiver, let alone travelling deliberately to their lands. Do you not find them impossible to talk to? They are a strange people. Besides  
they have terrible ale. Take Bergil or Ohtar? They have clamoured for an outing that isn't across the field to witness more death!" Leof squinted in the setting sun and cast his golden eyes over to his friends face, disappointment clouded over it.

"My father has requested this of me, it is a most trusted and important journey. The fate of Minas Tirith could very well rest on my ability to sway the Council. I need you at my side, my most trusted and loyal friend and soldier" Boromir had started to raise his voice in his consternation.

"Calm yourself my friend. I will come!" Leof laughed and patted Boromirs' shoulder, he could not bear to see his friend upset "when do we depart?"

"In two days, have your horse readied and see the armourer! Make haste!"

With that Boromir road away, his sandy hair tousled behind him. His sturdy form disappearing into the city.

Leof exhaled slowly. It wasn't that he despised elves or even that he went out of his way to avoid them. He just didn't understand them. He didn't understand their light and airy ways. Their aloof behaviours and their inhuman abilities. Leof was a  
man of Minas Tirith, of strength and war. And while he too found comfort in nature, he could not feel the affinity for it that Elves did. And really, who needs to live forever?

Making his way slowly down to the stables, he wondered if there were people he should be telling about his impending departure. A middle child, he had never felt overly close to his family. He had no relationship to speak of with his mother, his father was away often - a scout who risked his life every day to ensure the safety of the families in the surrounding villages and his brothers were busy with their own lives. He had always felt different, like his thoughts didn't fit in, or his theories were too complex. It wasn't until he and Faramir had sneaked into the library at the heart of the citadel one night when he was young that he realised the world was bigger than his family knew, and that his thirst to see it was not an illness as his mother had once suggested.

Saddling his horse, he swung his long legs over the saddle, grabbed the reins and rode off to chase the sunset and chase away his thoughts.


	4. 4

Santiel took a deep breath. This is it, this is my time.

She still could not fathom the conversation she had just walked away from with her Mother, never had she expected to be taken seriously, to be treated with respect.

 _"Santiel, you have dwelled in this land for four hundred years, time is still a passing idea to you. It has no end or malice. While I do not wish for this to be your quest, such as it is, I have seen so far as to know you are needed in some way. I fear though, that this forest will no longer be your home once you leave it"_

 _"This forest will always be my home, Mother. My heart lies here. Although I know little of the world beyond our borders, I do know that such beauty could not exist elsewhere. When should I depart?"_

 _"Beauty comes in many guises, Henig. I have no doubt in my mind that you will find true beauty on your travels. You must leave in two days if you are to arrive in time. You should take with you a companion. Choose wisely for you do not know what perils you will encounter on the road ahead. While I do not doubt your skill with your blades, you must remember that you are my daughter and therefore needed safe and whole,_ _Agoreg vae my child, I am proud of you"_

The enormity of what she had done suddenly weighed on Santiel as she considered the task at hand. Mentally shaking herself she walked over the the farrier who had been shoeing her horse for as long as she could remember.

 _"_ Eroan, I need Orym ready for hard travel by sundown tomorrow, can this be done?"

"Of course m'Lady" the farrier replied gruffly. "Will you be taking him far?"

"Across the mountains most likely, and then many leagues"

"We shall ensure he is healthy and safe for you"

"Mellon nin" She walked away, oblivious to the curious and worried looks that followed her from the stables.

Thinking hard, she furrowed her brow. _What will I need? Food, supplies, companion, blades._ Companion! Who would she take? Sitting down, on a mossy seat near a clear stream, she thought hard. But in the end it was very simple. There was only one person she had ever trusted her life to. One person who's instincts rivalled her own. Getting up she made her way to a flet which stood apart from the rest, on the edge of the forest. Climbing the ladder, she announced her presence.

"Ilune?" She called softly, but the flet was empty. Suddenly her spine tingled, turning quickly she jumped to the next tree to evade the Elf who had leapt down from the branches above in an attempt to knock her off the ladder. Scowling across at him, she made her way back to his flet.

"Santiel I'm sorry. You clearly are in no mood for jest" he was laughing breathlessly. "Come inside, I have wine"

"You always have wine Ilune, you know it makes you snore?"

"So you tell me, on every patrol. Come now, what troubles you?" He had seen the hesitation in her face, the way she was chewing her lip, the same look she wore when she came across Orc trails leading towards the forest when they patrolled together. He examined her eyes, usually amber but today a dark dark brown. Almost black with worry.

"Ilune I must ask something of you, a request of sorts, only now I am here I am not sure how to ask you" She looked away, unsure now of the decisions she had made today.

"Santiel - ask me. For I am like your brother and you my sister, surely there is nothing you cannot ask of me?" He raised his eyebrows at her, genuinely concerned by her hesitation. For once usually so forthright and direct this was strange behaviour.

"Ilune I must travel to Rivendell, by sun up the day after tomorrow. I need a companion, please will you accompany me?" she rushed her words out, worried for the impact they might have on her friend.

"To rivendell? Nay, that road is fraught with evil. What senseless notion is this?" He exclaimed, clearly unhappy with this plan.

"It is already decided. Someone must go, that someone is me. I am going with or without you, but with you will be safer"

"Santiel! This is madness! It is not safe for a-"

"A what? A _what?_ Ilune? A girl? A she-elf? How many times have I saved your life? How many times have I beaten you at practise?" Her wide eyes were fiery and her fists clenched, she wished she was armed.

"Be easy, _Hiril vuin,_ I will go with you. But first you must tell me two things. How has this come about? And what does Beriadan make of it all?" Ilune sat, and patted a cushion next to him, indicating she should sit by him. But she stood there, the colour draining from her sunkissed skin, her eyes grew larger.

" _Beriadan!"_ she turned and ran to the ladder "Ilune I must go, you are in charge of supplies and saddle bags!"

Ilune watched her leave, wondering if she would ever realise what every one else already knew.

 _Agoreg vae - well done_

 _Mellon nin - thank you_

 _Hiril vuin - My lady_


	5. 5

"Boromir we are lost. We have journeyed for 70 days, and still we do not know if we are any nearer. We have lost two horses and now we approach this accursed river, on foot with no means of knowing if we are even going the right way. Tell me you have a plan and not just some riddle you are following that came to you in a dream" Leof was tired, dirty and hungry. And how he hated to be hungry. Hunger made him angry, being dirty made him angry and being tired made him even angrier. A strong warrior he was indeed but he valued human comforts above all else and this was the longest journey with no respite that he had ever undertaken.

"It was no mere dream, Leof" Boromir was indignant. He sighed, "I had the opportunity to glance over an old map in the citadel before we left. I have told you this already. We pass through the gap of Rohan, follow the North South road to the river and follow the river up to Rivendell. We are so close. I know we are"

"And where are we now in relation to this route?" Leof raised his eyebrows and ran a hand through his hair. He gave a shudder at the state it was in and wished for a lake or even a small stream to cleanse himself. His once red hair was a muddy brown, his skin now caked in dust and mud.

"We know we have passed Helms Deep several days ago, we are heading now to the Gap of Rohan. We should keep to the shadows by night. Scouts have been reporting Orc patrols here for several months before our departure" Boromirs eyes darted about as he said this, as if the bushes had all become Orcs.

Leof merely grunted, dusk had fallen and he needed to take off his boots and eat something. Wandering ahead he found a suitable area to camp, hidden behind some scrub and in the shelter of a hill. Sitting down he took off his boots, and allowed his body to relax. It was Boromirs turn to catch dinner. His ears picked up a sound, faint but unmistakeable. Water. Trickling, gurgling and rushing away. Suddenly imbued with energy he leapt up to find the source, almost forgetting his boots in his excitement. Leaving his pack and his horse he ran towards the noise and lo! A tiny rushing stream. Happily and sparing no thought to his friend, he stripped down and lay in it. Feeling the dirt rush off him and away down the stream. Sitting up he cupped the water into his mouth and drank greedily. The water was fresh and cool, running direct from the mountains behind him.

After he had washed through his hair and his clothing, he sat silently. Enjoying the peace.

A sound so strange broke the silence around him - a laugh. Turning to look up stream he caught a glimpse of a pool formed by the stream before is cascaded down to where he was, and in it - a head. Barely visible above the surface but with a wide happy smile and sparkling eyes. He thought his eyes deceived him, he stuck his head under the water to clear it and looked back, and when he did, she was gone. He thought he must be going mad from his journey but then he spotted a shadow of long dark hair disappearing behind a tree. Getting up to follow he was halted in his tracks by a sound less strange and more familiar. The clash of swords.

Grabbing his wet clothes and dressing as he ran back to his horse and his pack he grabbed his sword and shield and called for Boromir.

"Boromir, call out for me, where are you?" Terrified for his friend and wracked with guilt for not making sure he was safe before he went chasing after a stream (and a woman no less) Leof was running in all directions. Eventually the bushes opened up and he saw him, battling no less than thirty orcs by himself. Rushing into the fray Leof drew his own weapon and started hacking.

"Where were you" Boromir managed to grind out between swings.

"I was distracted, forgive me." Shamed, Leof put everything he had into ending the lives of the filth around him. But every time he spilled the foul black blood more of them appeared. Starting to feel worried for their safety, he caught strange movement from the corner of his eye. A streak of grey and green, with dark hair, clad in leather. Accompanied by another similarly clad, fair haired streak. He with a bow, her with vicious looking curved twin blades. The grace and synchronicity with which they both moved was enviable. Him picking off orcs one by one with his arrows, they dropped around them like flies. Her blades flashing through the air as she took down two, three at a time. Eventually he felt redundant and relaxed his grip on his sword. Boromir turned to him to see why he had stopped, but all he could see was this strange being, he could not tear his eyes from her form, her energy, her fierce expression.

"LEOF! GET DOWN!"

Then, nothing. Blackness descended over Leof.


	6. 6

"Boromir we are lost. We have journeyed for 70 days, and still we do not know if we are any nearer. We have lost two horses and now we approach this accursed river, on foot with no means of knowing if we are even going the right way. Tell me you have a plan and not just some riddle you are following that came to you in a dream" Leof was tired, dirty and hungry. And how he hated to be hungry. Hunger made him angry, being dirty made him angry and being tired made him even angrier. A strong warrior he was indeed but he valued human comforts above all else and this was the longest journey with no respite that he had ever undertaken.

"It was no mere dream, Leof" Boromir was indignant. He sighed, "I had the opportunity to glance over an old map in the citadel before we left. I have told you this already. We pass through the gap of Rohan, follow the North South road to the river and follow the river up to Rivendell. We are so close. I know we are"

"And where are we now in relation to this route?" Leof raised his eyebrows and ran a hand through his hair. He gave a shudder at the state it was in and wished for a lake or even a small stream to cleanse himself. His once red hair was a muddy brown, his skin now caked in dust and mud.

"We know we have passed Helms Deep several days ago, we are heading now to the Gap of Rohan. We should keep to the shadows by night. Scouts have been reporting Orc patrols here for several months before our departure" Boromirs eyes darted about as he said this, as if the bushes had all become Orcs.

Leof merely grunted, dusk had fallen and he needed to take off his boots and eat something. Wandering ahead he found a suitable area to camp, hidden behind some scrub and in the shelter of a hill. Sitting down he took off his boots, and allowed his body to relax. It was Boromirs turn to catch dinner. His ears picked up a sound, faint but unmistakeable. Water. Trickling, gurgling and rushing away. Suddenly imbued with energy he leapt up to find the source, almost forgetting his boots in his excitement. Leaving his pack and his horse he ran towards the noise and lo! A tiny rushing stream. Happily and sparing no thought to his friend, he stripped down and lay in it. Feeling the dirt rush off him and away down the stream. Sitting up he cupped the water into his mouth and drank greedily. The water was fresh and cool, running direct from the mountains behind him.

After he had washed through his hair and his clothing, he sat silently. Enjoying the peace.

A sound so strange broke the silence around him - a laugh. Turning to look up stream he caught a glimpse of a pool formed by the stream before is cascaded down to where he was, and in it - a head. Barely visible above the surface but with a wide happy smile and sparkling eyes. He thought his eyes deceived him, he stuck his head under the water to clear it and looked back, and when he did, she was gone. He thought he must be going mad from his journey but then he spotted a shadow of long dark hair disappearing behind a tree. Getting up to follow he was halted in his tracks by a sound less strange and more familiar. The clash of swords.

Grabbing his wet clothes and dressing as he ran back to his horse and his pack he grabbed his sword and shield and called for Boromir.

"Boromir, call out for me, where are you?" Terrified for his friend and wracked with guilt for not making sure he was safe before he went chasing after a stream (and a woman no less) Leof was running in all directions. Eventually the bushes opened up and he saw him, battling no less than thirty orcs by himself. Rushing into the fray Leof drew his own weapon and started hacking.

"Where were you" Boromir managed to grind out between swings.

"I was distracted, forgive me." Shamed, Leof put everything he had into ending the lives of the filth around him. But every time he spilled the foul black blood more of them appeared. Starting to feel worried for their safety, he caught strange movement from the corner of his eye. A streak of grey and green, with dark hair, clad in leather. Accompanied by another similarly clad, fair haired streak. He with a bow, her with vicious looking curved twin blades. The grace and synchronicity with which they both moved was enviable. Him picking off orcs one by one with his arrows, they dropped around them like flies. Her blades flashing through the air as she took down two, three at a time. Eventually he felt redundant and relaxed his grip on his sword. Boromir turned to him to see why he had stopped, but all he could see was this strange being, he could not tear his eyes from her form, her energy, her fierce expression.

"LEOF! GET DOWN!"

Then, nothing. Blackness descended over Leof.


	7. 7

Dawn was starting to break by the time Santiel and Ilune stopped at a tiny stream near Dunland to allow their horses to drink and to wash the Orc blood from their hands and faces.

"We should have stopped to make sure they were not in trouble" said Santiel. Feeling guilty to have left the two warriors behind them.

"Bah, men. They were not seriously wounded. The tall one was hit on the head by a rock by a fallen Orc. Not serious in the slightest. He just needs to sleep it off. The arrogant looking one will take care of him. He was unharmed. Do not worry, men have proven they need no one for thousands of years. We left no survivors and it would not have been wise for us to intervene. If you had not rushed in we would have been further ahead by now anyway" Ilune grumbled at her. His dislike of men apparent in the way he spat out his words.

"We couldn't just leave them to fight. They were grossly out numbered!" Santiel was surprised by Ilunes attitude towards the two warriors.

"Leaving them to fight is what they've wanted from us for generations. Men think they have inherited the world. Let them fight for it" Ilune went back to starting the fire and Santiel sat dumbfounded, combing her fingers through her hair, now stringy and limp after being doused in Orc blood.

She thought back to the bravery of the men. To the expression of one of them in particular as he watched her. It was as if he had not seen an Elf before. She chuckled slightly at the look on his face when the downed Orc had reared up and struck him, first surprise and then the blissful, ignorant look all males wear when in repose.

Taking out her blades to clean and sharpen them, she took comfort in the gloomy morning from the sound of her whet stone and before long Ilune had warmed back up and was talking merrily with her about their recent conquests. Both of them laughing at the variety of ways in which they had cut down and beheaded the Orcs around them. For if there was one thing these two Elves had in common, it was bloodlust.

Gradually they quieted and eventually took it in turns to nap briefly. Elves have little need of sleep but they had both had an arduous day and the rush of the kill had faded quickly from them.

As Santiel drifted in and out of sleep, she felt a tug at her heart and knew that somewhere beyond this awful place, Beriadan was thinking of her. She remembered his words to her, and knew the sun must be up now as she was his first thought in the morning.

With sorrow she remembered their parting, how he had begged her not to go, how he had volunteered to accompany her even though they both knew he could not leave the Lady's side. How she had sworn to come back to him. And how they both knew she might not. It had been with tears in her eyes that she rode away from him, even Oryn, her faithful black charger, had registered her sorrow. His ears pulled back, whinnying softly into the forest.

Santiel gave up on the notion of sleep just as the first clouds of the day pulled over the sun.

"There's rain in the air" she said quietly to Ilune.

"Aye, but it'll be a gentle rain. Good and cleansing for the soul. We should reach the marsh near Glanduin by nightfall. We can camp there for the night" he started to pack up their supplies and meagre camp.

"I still don't see why we could not just cross the mountains, we have taken many orcs on this journey, why are the mountain orcs any different" grumbling away to herself Santiel followed Ilune and packed away her whet stone and her spare clothes.

"Evil dwells in the mountains" was all Ilune would offer in response.


	8. 8

October.

"The leaves are turning and falling Gandalf, summer is shorter in these dark years" A wistful voice, musical and yet laden with anguish, spoke from behind the wizard as he sat with his pipe in the gardens looking out over Rivendell.

"My lady Arwen, Cormamin lindua ele lle" he smiled at her and stood as she approached him.

She laughed, a light and silvery sound. "Always you speak with such grace, even at times like these" she trailed off "How is Frodo?"

"Stronger than he looks. He is mending well. It is exceptionally good fortune that Glorfindel was able to find him in time. A few more hours and he would have been lost forever" Gandalf blew a smoke ring and watched it move away over the trees and flowers. This land was truly a miracle, here you could almost forget a shadow existed at all. Almost.

He watched warily as two riders approached the guards at the last gate. Already he had watched the dwarven congregation, the Elves from Mirkwood and the delegation from Dale appear. Here already were the hobbits and Ellessar.

Watching the riders dismount he pondered their origin. Both tall, one especially so. Both broad with warrior stances. One with dark auburn hair and one red headed. Then one turned his face towards the sun and Gandalf recognised him as Boromir, son of Denethor. The other Gandalf knew less well but had seen in the citadel many times over the years. Well, thought the wizard, this is a turn of events. He watched as their horses were led away, and the men, almost on the verge of collapse, were guided inside. Sagging with relief they accepted the help although the looks of unease on their faces suggested they were less than happy being manhandled by Elves.

Some time earlier Gandalf had watched two Elves arrive in similar manner. But both had been hooded and he had yet to discover where they had hailed from. Muttering to himself that he should go and find out he made his excuses to the exquisite Elf next to him and left.

Sweeping through the light and airy corridors he came across Aragorn sitting in a window, a look of raw longing on his face. Following his eyes Gandalf saw Arwen standing in the courtyard where he had left her. Clearing his throat quietly, he caught the attention of the rugged man.

"Gandalf, you look harried. Are you harbouring secrets?" The man teased him.

"Many secrets my old friend, however at this moment I require knowledge. Some hours ago two Elves arrived, they looked road weary and they had travelled far. Who were they? For unless my eyes are mistaken they wore the colours of Lothlorien?"

"Did you not recognise the Lady Santiel?" Aragorn astonished the old man, who drew in a quick breath of surprise.

"But the Lady Santiel has not left the wood for many years. I am surprised at their choice of emissary for such an important gathering. Her nature has always been...strong" Gandalf struggled for words.

"I think you mean, wilful, direct, stubborn, indiscreet with a rebellious streak that defies her Elvish nature" supplied Aragorn, helpfully.

"Yes, quite. Well, this will be interesting. I should seek her out, long it has been since last I saw her" Gandalf hastened away, leaving Aragorn to go back to his day dreams.

As he walked towards the living quarters, his cloaks rustling alongside him he could clearly make out which direction to head in by the voices in front.

"But my lord Elrond, I understand that the occasion may call for Lady's of the court to dress appropriately however I have not come here in such a fashion. I am here as the ambassador to my people. To be listened to and respected in such a way. How can that be so when I am to be dressed in such, such... In so many silks!" The pitch of her voice was high, her tone distasteful and unhappy.

"My dear, you have not been here for many years. However some traditions remain the same. You will sit with Arwen and you will dress accordingly. Besides, you cannot wear dusty riding leathers to a formal dinner. That is my final word on the subject. Sister you may be to me, but I am still Lord in my house here" Gandalf could envisage the stern but kind look Elrond was currently bestowing on his sister by marriage.

After Elrond had left, giving Gandalf a slightly exasperated look as he did, Gandalf slipped into the room. Ilune appeared behind him, stifling a laugh as he did, having been eavesdropping the whole exchange and finding it most entertaining. They were both greeted by an irate Santiel, staring angrily at a leaf green silk dress rippling out over the bed before her. Complete with matching slippers and an ornate band for her head. A hand maiden was standing to her side looking imploringly at her.

"Very well, but please. Do not take too long. I cannot abide being fussed over" Santiel sank into the carved chair by the bed and allowed the maiden to brush out her hair, gleaming now it had been washed.

"Some things do not change do they Aier?" Gandalf looked at her quizzically.

"Mithrandir! Nae saian luume!" Santiel leaped up joyously, much to the frustration of the handmaiden"And I am not so small, taller than most human women" she retorted, in her usual greeting to him.

"Well now, Arwenamin, I have the feeling you have much to tell me..."

And so Santiel relayed everything to him.

 _Aier - small one_

 _Cormamin lindua ele lle - a star shines upon our meeting_

 _Nae saian luume - it has been too long_

 _Arwenamin - my lady (familiar)_


	9. 9

"What is this, this gold water. It is neither ale nor wine. Elves...nothing is as it should be" Leof drained his fourth drink and picked up a leaf from his plate and stared at it. Willing it to turn into meat in his hand.

"It may not be ale, but it's strong. I can feel it warming my bones!" Boromir seemed to be warming up to the drink and the company.

Leof was about to initiate a conversation with the man from Dale to his left in the Great Hall when a vision in green silk passed by him. He may not like Elvish manners, he thought to himself, but they were the most beautiful beings. He watched as the dark haired elf passed him. Regal looking, nose high in the air. She carried herself with the grace and dignity he had seen in all Elves over the course of the day. He didn't think it seemed fair, that such agility and fluid motions should come naturally to one race, when he found it hard enough not to trip over his own feet most of the time. Then he laughed heartily as she tripped over a chair and sprawled to the floor. When she got up she kicked the chair in anger, hopping from foot to foot as it clearly had hurt her toes more than the chair. She caught his eyes, hers widening in surprise.

"Sir, it is impolite to laugh at a Lady's misfortune"

"My apologies _my lady -_ may I offer my service. Perhaps I could remove all the chairs from this hall so as not to obstruct you further?" He stifled a laugh, eyes bleary.

Shocked at this disrespect for her rank and her race, Santiel straightened her back and squared her shoulders.

"Perhaps, _my Lord_ , you should consider minding your courtesy. Or do you need to be taught basic manners when addressing your superiors?" Coolly she looked at him.

Leof pushed back his chair and stood, unsteadily. Who was this woman to speak to him so? A decorated knight. A warrior of Gondor.

"Perhaps you were not raised in such a way where you understood your place!" He hissed, unused to being spoken to in such a fashion and unaware of the strength of the Elven wine he had consumed.

Icily she replied "Sir, you appear unable to handle your wine. Should you wish to continue this conversation, I am happy to demonstrate my place to you. Perhaps in the training grounds outside? Sun up tomorrow?" She gave him one last look of contempt before walking away.

"Tell me, Ilune, why did we come to their aid?" She muttered to her companion as she took her seat next to Arwen under the canopy, "And tell me, am I the only clumsy elf?"

Boromir had pulled his friend back to his seat, unable to contain his mirth.

"My friend I hope you are not considering attending this meeting tomorrow? We are here to gain allies not beat little girls in the gardens" Laughing at the look on Leofs face, the incredulous disbelief at the conversation he had just had, Boromir recommended he retire for the evening and sleep off his wine.

Leof stood, swaying slightly, glaring over at the two women talking animatedly on the raised dais. The woman in green looked so familiar, but he couldn't place her in his memory. Some handmaiden belonging to the Lady Arwen, he assumed. She glanced up at him, he scowled in return, a headache descending over him already. He stumbled off to find a bed to collapse in.

Birds were singing. Leof opened one eye to see Boromir standing over him. He groaned and sat up, anticipating a sore head. However he was surprised to find that he felt well rested and refreshed. Opening his eyes fully he looked at the man in front of him.

"I have to go and meet a woman, who wishes to fight with me, because I insulted her by accident, do I not?" A vague memory of the conversation came back to him.

"Aye, you were not yourself. But I suggest you do not insult her further by not going. Go, let her hit you once maybe twice. Then leave. You owe her that much. And then hurry back. The Council begins after lunch" He threw Leof his clothes and his sword and waited for him to dress. Sighing, he took them and was just strapping his sword to his side when there was a knock at the door.

"Come in"

In strolled an Elf, tall, striking but clearly battle worn, with a merciless glint in his eye.

"My lord I am come to escort you to the training area, it would be unfortunate if you did not know where it was and disappointed our mutual friend, she awaits you"

"Thank you, umm..."

"Ilune, my Lord"

"Thank you Ilune. Please, just call my Leof. Lead the way" Looking helplessly at Boromir, Leof followed the Elf outside.

"Tell me Ilune, have I met you before?"

"I shall await such a time as your memory returns to you, before I answer that" Ilune walked on ahead, apparently not willing to enter a conversation.

They soon reached the training area. Looking around Leof saw that quite a few people from the dinner last night had appeared. Strange that they should wish to watch the humiliation of a woman, he wondered idly. Perhaps it is as uncommon here as it is in Gondor to be called out by a woman.

Walking into the arena, he saw her immediately. Her hair was pulled back tightly and she was dressed today in supple brown leathers, accented by intricate silver work depicting trees and ivy inlaid into the forearms and shoulders and around the chest. She moved towards him.

"I see you have brought your sword? As you wish. I have no sword but I am happy for you to use yours" she stepped a few paces away from him. He was about to gallantly throw his sword to the side when she ran at him, jumping high in the air she kicked him squarely in the jaw. He fell to the ground, ears ringing. Looking up at her standing over him, she smirked. He drew his sword. Elves... He thought again, I may not be able to fly through the air, but brute strength, weaponry and skill are on my side.

He took several steps to gain his bearing, raised his sword, and charged. She sidestepped him at the last minute but not before he swung back and caught the back of her legs with his foot.

Feeling stupidly pleased with himself, and yet ashamed for flooring a woman, he stepped back, but as he turned he realised she was not on the floor. Too late, his mistake was apparent - he had let his guard down and he felt her kick to his chest before he saw her foot. Stumbling back he reached out and grabbed her foot but she twisted away, circling him, she ran at him. Inhuman in her speed - he thought quickly and as she came at him he swung his sword up and out so that she had no choice but to alter her course, she jumped up and raised both feet to his chest to knock him down, however he was too solid and she was forced to land on her feet in front of him, allowing him to lift his sword to her chest. She looked him deep in the eye, but just as he thought she was about to concede he realised she had slipped his dagger from his belt and was holding it to his neck. He lowered his sword and she sprang away, he ran at her, angry now. She jumped into the air and twisted around him knocking him to the floor. Then it was over, he had no choice but to admit defeat the moment she straddled his chest and he felt the points of two exceptionally sharp blades against his throat. Fluidly standing up, she watched him as he stood. He then noticed the two long, slightly curved blades she held in both hands. Icy white steel, with beautiful hilts. She wielded them like extensions of her own limbs. He remembered then.

"You! It was you we saw at the Greyflood!" Disbelief and shock were in his voice. Here she was, this strange being he didn't even know had been real.

She bowed slightly, mockingly.

"I believe today's lesson in manners is ended. Twice now I have shown you reason to respect me, twice more than I needed" her tone was derisive and Leof felt utterly stupid. A feeling he hated.

"Forgive me, my behaviour at dinner was most unlike my normal self. Never have I showed discourtesy to a woman - regardless of rank. Your wine is strong and I am unused to consuming wine in any quantity. I owe you gratitude for your skill on our journey and I owe you my deepest apologies for our previous encounter" He bowed stiffly.

"Your forgiveness is in today's defeat. As to the rest, you have proved to me the plague that is man. Rude and uncouth. I have no use for your words. Excuse me, I must leave"

"You speak of manners - and yet an apology is offered up and you would walk away with no acceptance? This is poor manners indeed!" Leof called out after her retreating back, feeling anger rise within him.

The noise of the crowd then started to rush in to his hearing and he remembered he was not alone. Looking over at the group of people laughing and cheering still, he hastily retreated. Red faced and with rage in his stomach.

Boromir clapped him in the shoulder.

"Come now! You did not have to let her win completely, you could have protected your reputation a little Leofred!" His mood was jovial, as if they were boys again and scuffling in the gardens.

"Boromir, I do not wish to discuss her or this topic again. Let us eat and then make towards the council. We have a long day ahead of us"

At this Boromir became somber. Remembering why they were here he looked at Leof.

"Do you think they will help us? Do you think they will have the answer to the riddle? It is my destiny to save Gondor. To seek glory for our city." He gazed across the valley. "Isildurs bane, the sword that was broken. These words have weighed heavily in my heart" he exhaled and started towards the house. Leof followed him, wondering what the day would bring next to test him.


	10. 10

"Santiel, you must at least wear the circlet" Ilune thrust the band of leaves wrought in silver, into her hand.

"Very well! But then we must go, I fear we will be the last to arrive" Forcing the band roughly on to her head, she rushed out of the door, Ilune trailing behind her. Ilune had been trying to persuade her to wear one of the dresses that had been sent up to her from the Lady Arwens personal dressmaker. Feeling uncomfortable enough in the circlet, she had insisted on remaining in her brown leathers, although she had brushed the mornings dust from them.

Still feeling her pride bruised from her trip the night before, she needed no more reasons to feel less like herself. So unaccustomed was she to the long and flowing dresses that she had struggled to not trip again that night. And to be teased in such a manner by a stranger, and a man! This had been the final straw in her temper. Smiling wickedly, she recalled the triumphant feeling of besting him this morning, feeling his resistance and his aggression ebb away beneath her as she had trapped his neck in her blades. And something else, a sensation that pooled in her stomach the like of which she had not felt before. She recalled his eyes looking into hers, angry and embarrassed. But there was another emotion, unreadable – but present.

Shaking off her errant thoughts, she put them away, to be re-examined at a later point. Straightening her back and pulling her shoulders back she marched out into the courtyard where the Council was already assembled.

"Ilune, I shall find you when I am done. You know you cannot enter" Her tone was apologetic.

"Tis no bother, the talk will be dull. I shall go and find a handmaiden to distract me, perhaps she can explain to me the customs of the people of Imladris" he lifted the corner of his mouth in a smirk and Santiel swatted him away, laughing.

"Please do not do anything to tarnish our reputation as ambassadors to our people!" She was only half teasing him, and he knew this.

"I am, as ever, a gentleman" He called back over his shoulder.

Walking in, Santiel took her seat to the right of Elrond. Arwen was already sat to his left.

"Time has little meaning to you, Santiel" Elrond leaned down and frowned at her.

"My apologies my Lord" Santiel bowed her head, in deference to his scolding. Looking back up, she let her gaze wander the room. Several Elves were in attendance, a group of Dwarves whom she eyed curiously, Ellessar – Aragorn to most was seated alone to one side. She nodded to the men from Dale who ha been all courtesy to her the evening prior. Gandalf was seated next in the circle, with two halflings on smaller seats next to him. Finally her gaze rested on the two men, she took in the White Tree of their armour, and the seriousness of their faces. This council will change the fate of Middle Earth, she mused. Her sparring partner from this morning looked at her from the corner of his eye, his face reddening under her scrutiny. Again she felt it, a pull. Perhaps I am hungry, she wondered, she had not eaten since the feast the night before. Elrond began to speak, introducing the gathering. She was busy listening to the birdsong from above when she realized he was coming to the end of the circle, the two men, and then her.

"Here, my friends is the hobbit, Frodo son of Drogo. Few have ever come hither through greater peril or on an errand more urgent." Santiel smiled down at the small, dark haired Halfling as Elrond moved on to introduce Boromir son of Denethor, steward of Gondor and his companion Leofred, son of Leonere, also of Gondor and captain of the citys' outpost guards. She drew in a sharp breath, shocked that she had saved the life of the Son of Gondor.

"And finally, the Lady Santiel, daughter of Celeborn and Galadriel, Lady of Lothlorien and sister of my Wife, a long journey she has made to bring us news of the borders of her land and the challenges faced by their armies." Elrond nodded to her as she regarded her audience. The taller of the men, Leofred, looked at her sharply – colour now draining from his face.

"Boromir" Leof hissed angrily "Did you know she was his _sister_?"

"It may have been mentioned to me in passing after you had retired last night" Boromir would not meet his eye.

Leof groaned and shook his head. Not only had he insulted a woman, but a Lady. A Lady who was the sister of their host, sister of the most intimidating elf he was every likely to meet. And daughter of a myth, a legend, a witch. Unaccustomed to feeling so dim witted, with such frequency, he kept his eyes fixed on a point in midair. He had spent many years journeying the lands, fighting in battle, standing ceremony at court, and yet never had he felt so out of place and small as he did right now. He could feel her eyes on him, the intensity of her stare. He could not wait to leave and be on their journey again, to never have to see this elf again, to never have to feel this way for as long as he lived. Trying to keep his emotions at bay, and not understanding why they were so strong, he tried to refocus on the conversation taking place, all the while feeling embarrassment and anger in his blood.

"…and Isildur cut the Ring from his hand with the hilt- shard of his father's sword, and took it for his own." Elrond had finished recounting the story of Saurons defeat. Boromir leapt to his feet beside Leof

"So that is what became of the ring!" Leof tugged on his arm and forced him back in his seat, however Elrond then called upon Boromir to recount his story and the reason for his attendance. Leof sat while Boromir explained the conditions in Minas Tirith and the dream that had come to him. Finishing his story he expressed his desire to seek clarity.

"And here in the house of Elrond, more shall be made clear to you" The grey eyed, dark haired hooded man sitting off by himself had stood and thrown off his hood, removing from his belt a sword in two pieces and laying it on the pedestal in front of Boromir. "Here is the sword that was broken"

Murmering broke out, Boromir looked stunned and Leof felt confused, who was this man? He had not realized he had spoken aloud until Elrond stood then and answered him.

"He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn and he is descended through many fathers from Isildur Elendils son" a hush then fell on the group as they thought over this new information. To some this was already known, but to others this was news indeed.

Leof thought hard about what this meant, here in front of him stood the King. The rightful heir to the throne of Gondor. This bedraggled, dark looking man. Looking at him more carefully, Leof looked at the weather worn lines on his face, the slight scarring on his jaw. The depth of his eyes and the broadness to his shoulder. Yes, he thought, he could be king.

He became aware of a commotion, looking away he saw that the dark haired Halfling had brought forth a golden ring and had placed it on the large stone table in the centre of the Council. He heard Aragorn telling Boromir of his part in this story and then the elder of the two halflings was stood, telling a strange story of creatures that dwell under mountains and riddles that went on forever. Drifting in and out Leof struggled to pay attention to the conversation around him. Perhaps he had taken a harder knock to the head than he thought, he wondered ruefully. Raising his hand to check his head, he caught the attention of the woman responsible for the lump he now found on the back of his head. She flashed her eyes to him and he felt his skin tingle in response. What dark magic is this, he thought, what power do these Elves hold with their eyes.

" _Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul,…"_ Leof noticed a shudder of what seemed like pain pass through Santiel and her eyes grew wide and fearful. He felt an unfamiliar urge to make whatever was hurting her stop and he broke eye contact to glance at the wizard who was speaking in this foul tongue. The skies grew dark and the earth shook beneath them.

The wizard finished chanting, and Elrond admonished his use of the language of Mordor in his house. Thinking he should pay more attention, Leof resumed trying to pickup the threads of the conversation. But prickling the edge of his consciousness he felt the distress of the Elf.


End file.
